


Just a glass of water

by Zikul



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Criticism of Cardassia, F/M, Grief, Intellectual Discussion, Miles is dead, Psychology, Tribunal aftermath, caring Garak, supportive Garak, the beginnings of a Garak/Keiko relationship if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zikul/pseuds/Zikul
Summary: “I always thought you liked Cardassia as it is,” she said at last.“I do, usually,” Garak said simply, “but just tonight, I’m seated with a woman who lost her husband, and just this once, I’ll grant you absolute truth. It’s the least I can do.”-----Based on a version of the episode "Tribunal" in which Miles O'Brien doesn't survive, Keiko goes to find answers from the only person who might know the truth: Elim Garak.





	Just a glass of water

“I need to understand,” were the first words that hit Garak as he opened the doors on his midnight visitor. Then, as he realized who it was, his eyes widened in frozen fear, and he straightened up into a more formal posture, tightening his robes around himself.

“Per-perhaps this can wait until tomorrow,” those were the most cowardly words he could’ve chosen to speak to a woman who had just lost her husband, but the fear grappling at his insides was tangenting on claustrophobic.

“Morrow, day, night... they’re all the same to me lately,” Keiko dismissed his concerns and pushed her way past him. Sorrow had taken its toll on her impulse control, she’d always had a temper (or so he’d been told by Doctor Bashir, several times). Somewhere behind him, she’d come to a stop, and even with his subpar Cardassian hearing, he could hear a small gasp.

“I’m sorry, my quarters are quite untidy,” he apologized and turned around.

“No, that’s not – that’s a _red listed species_ , Mister Garak,” she lectured him at last, pointing to the potted plant in the left corner of his quarters, “why is it on a space station, in a civilian’s quarters?” She couldn’t help herself, and Garak thought that fine, she’d lost her husband, if she needed to be upset about a Denobulan Flytrap, then all the more power to her.

“I bought the seeds from Quark,” he answered simply, “we have a similar species back... where I come from,” he avoided Cardassia Prime in the most awkward and clumsy manner, “I was intending on gifting it to the Denobulan people once it’d grown a bit larger. Would you like some tea?” He thought he’d offer, and when she didn’t answer straight away, he went to the replicator, only to realize that _maybe_ she wasn’t in the mood for a Cardassian brew.

“Anything is fine,” she told him with a groan, as if she’d read his thoughts, “it’s not like he got sentenced to death by a – by...” she’d started crying, and Garak watched in horror as she more or less collapsed on her knees. What was he supposed to do? What did she want him to do? There was a very real possibility that she’d assault him no matter he chose to try and comfort her or not.

“Two cups of red leaf tea,” he ordered from the replicator, moved them to the side and added, “and a blanket and a box of napkins, please,” the items appeared, and he went to drape the fabric around Keiko’s unsteady shoulders, handed her the box of napkins, and went back for the tea.

“Tell me,” he came back, sat crosslegged and sat the cups on the floor, “what is it you want to understand? I’ll try to oblige, of course, to the best of my efforts.” Keiko dabbed her face with a napkin, and steeled herself with a deep breath.

“I need to understand why,” she told him, “because if I won’t, if I never can understand, I’m afraid that the hatred and anger that I feel will take over. And I can’t, I don’t want that to happen. Those tendrils of darkness are like weeds, invasive plants that choke out all other life – I need to understand.”

“Ah,” Garak took his cup and blinked down at it, “that is... a different challenge. I could tell you all the facts I have, but that won’t erase the difference between knowing and understanding. Very few people ever grow close to understanding the Cardassian mind, Miss O’Brien,” he offered her a smile that he hoped wasn’t too overbearing.

“Look, I know you’re probably terrified that I’m here, asking these things of you, but I just need the truth. Everyone’s infuriatingly gentle, no one wants to talk about what I’ve actually gone through – and quite frankly, you carry the scales on your skin. There’s nothing you can say that won’t be more obvious than that,” she stared at him, and in the darkness of her eyes, he could see desperation and frustration entangled in a vicious fight. Garak gulped and nodded, he could certainly admire her strength, even as she was on the verge of breaking apart.

“Cardassia is a totalitarian regime,” he told her without the kind of flowery language he’d use with Julian. This _wasn’t_ Julian, “we consider personal sacrifice to be the highest duty of all. We sacrifice our own so easily that, to us, there’s nothing extreme in the concept of sacrificing an alien for the greater good of the State. And I would think that, no, Miles O’Brien was not guilty of the crime he stood accused for. In Cardassia, you don’t need to be guilty, it’s enough that you’re accused. Truth is always up for debate, and may be rewritten at any point,” he hesitated for a moment, and made a little bit of distance between them, “what I can tell you, if it’s any consolation, is that they didn’t torture him. If they had tortured him, if he had been re-educated, he would not have denied his guilt.”

“Re-educate?” Keiko shot instead, and Garak grasped for words, shoulders sinking.

“It’s when you... force someone to alter their veiw on reality, by applying harmful physical stimuli whenever the wrong answer is delivered. The Cardassian brain, and I believe, the human brain too, have this in common, that it wants to perserve us. When put under this kind of treatment, you’ll eventually believe that... two plus two equals five, if that’s what’s asked of you,” he didn’t dare look at her, she was sipping her tea, but her hands were unsteady, “but as I said, he wasn’t put through that.”

“Captain Picard was,” she said easily.

“Oh,” Garak cleared his throat.

“But you’re certain they didn’d do that to Miles?” she pressed.

“Absolutely certain,” Garak confirmed, “I think that, the Cardassian people might not need a confession from an alien as much as from one of our own: yes, we do apply treatment to our own before they go into trial. It’s necessary. In the case of your husband, I think it’s very likely that amongst the many reasons why he wasn’t treated, it’s possible that someone had a feud with the Conservator.”

“Kovat,” Keiko remembered the name with disgust.

“The Conservator’s role is to remain the very last Cardassian to stand with the offendant, the one person to offer comfort. It eases confessions. It’s an occupation that comes with many enemies, growing in numbers the older you get – Kovat likely had it coming,” he smiled a bit, “he very nearly didn’t manage, as well.”

“Lucky him,” Keiko said without joy, “So, with what methods do you execute people?” The abrupt change to such a heavy topic blew the air out of Garak’s lungs.

“It depends,” he whispered at his cup, “public executions are often... hanging. Sometimes from the city wall. Sometimes disemboweling, too. But,” he cleared his throat, “that wouldn’t have been the way your husband died. His execution won’t have been public, and it will have been painless.”

“If you’re lying,” Keiko pierced the air with a dangerous vibration to her voice, “you’ll find yourself in something much less painless.”

“I’m not lying,” Garak held up a hand, “they will have wanted to execute your husband fast, before the Federation could come in and save him. And the fastest way we’ve got, is phaser set to disintegration.”

“And that’s supposed to be painless?” it was clear that she was doubtful.

“Yes,” said Garak, although he wasn’t sure himself, “that’s what they say.”

“And is it what _you_ say?” she caught him there, and he filled his lungs with air, holding it in for long enough to gather some flecks of darkness in his eyes. How could he even begin to answer such a question? What use was this going to be to her?

“No,” he confessed at last, “I’ve shot people and... it... never looks as painless as they tell you that it is. But – but officially...” Keiko interrupted him with a tight hum, then got to her feet and hurried into his bathroom. He did his best to ignore the sounds that came from in there, but as she seemed to linger for longer than what was reasonable, he got up too, and went to the doors, knocking on them.

“Can I get you something?” he asked gently.

“ _Just a glass of water_ ,” answered a muffled voice from the other side, and the tailor nodded to himself and made another visit to the replicator.

“Tell me why my husband had to die,” Keiko asked of him when she came out from the bathroom, taking the glass from his hand so harshly, that the water nearly left it.

“By weakening the Federation’s standing, Cardassia has gained better grounds for bargaining, and... if conflict were to arise, people would be more prone to vote in favour of war. And, similarly, less likely to vote in favour for any closer cooperation between the State and the Federation. It’s... damanged relations on the long run,” Garak looked at her back as she went over to his couch, sitting on it with one leg over the other.

“My husband was abducted, falsely accused and horribly murdered – to ensure unanimousity between our peoples,” she summarized and stared foggy-eyed ahead of her.

“I’m afraid that that, might just be it,” Garak phrased awkwardly and went to sit in the armchair opposite to his visitor. An eye unused to people in wreakage might have described her as frail – but Garak had seen many people reach their breaking point, and Keiko O’brien Ishikawa was everything but frail. She remained there, in the middle of a truth that her entire being wanted nothing but to reject, and she just held onto it, harder and harder.

“Then there’s only one thing to do,” she said with resolve, “mend relations. Let those _bastards_ know that they might be able to stall for time, but in the long run, kindness wins.”

“That’s very...” Garak’s smile died when she glared at him.

“Don’t tell me that it’s going to be one-sided, Garak,” she cut him off, “everything is one-sided in the beginning.”

“I was going to say that I admire your determination,” he found himself answering instead, “one which I am not sure the Cardassian people share, other than perhaps in their most unlawful dreams.” He shaped his lips to an o, and Keiko lowered her gaze.

“Do you remember Rugal?” she asked, and Garak winced as his hand reminded him a bit too vividly, “He might bring change.”

“Or he’ll _be_ changed,” Garak answered a bit too fast, then bit his lower lip at her expression of dismay.

“Can you put me in contact with him?” she asked, and he knew he was in no position to say no.

“It might be unwise, both for his safety, and for mine,” he told carefully, blinking at her in a way to tell _please don’t do this to us_.

“Fine,” Keiko shrugged and leaned back in her seat, “just try to find out what became of him. I tried sending calls, but they’ve all been deflected.”

“Ah yes,” Garak shuffled a bit awkwardly, “we don’t exactly permit pleasure calls across borders. Dangerous influences that threaten the state could easily slip into the Cardassian mind like that and, if it does, we’d have to re-educate people, and we’d rather _not_ have to resort to that. So it’s heavily regulated, for the safety of everyone.”

“You can’t resist reality for all eternity,” Keiko countered, “we’ve had totalitarian regimes on earth, too, and internationality never could be kept at bay forever.”

“You didn’t have our technology,” Garak chimed with a bit of sorrow, “Julian has told me so much about it, and I... wish my people would’ve gotten the chance to break free sooner. Now, it’s getting to be difficult.” Across the table, Keiko looked at him in a different way.

“I always thought you liked Cardassia as it is,” she said at last.

“I do, usually,” Garak said simply, “but just tonight, I’m seated with a woman who lost her husband, and just this once, I’ll grant you absolute truth. It’s the least I can do.” She was moved by this, he could tell, and something more relaxed crossed her face, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“That is very sweet of you,” she sipped the water and looked to the red listed flytrap, “you’re the first person who has dared to be honest with me. And I think, maybe the only person around who could even begin to understand what I’m going through. Tell me, Garak, in Cardassia... how do you explain it? To your children...” her eyes got wetter, and Garak swallowed.

“Molly. Of course,” he murmured. It was as if Keiko’s heavy burden had been transported over to him, weighing at his chest, “we’re raised to see trials as a form of symbolism. There’s no need to explain to the child, the child is expected to have seen the trial, and the trial is supposed to be all they need to move on.” Keiko blew a breath through her nose.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work with Molly,” she deflected flatly, “she’s been asking. I can’t answer, I guess for the same reason people are afraid to talk to me. Or to listen to me,” she looked at Garak, “I haven’t told her yet, that her father won’t come back. I don’t know if I’ve even managed to tell myself that, although... he’s gone. I can feel it. He’s gone.” She smiled despite her tears, and rubbed her thumb under her left eye, “And Molly keeps asking – she’s at Julian’s place tonight,” she explained and laid her hand back in her lap.

“I’m not sure I can help you with that,” Garak told her as softly as he could, “we wouldn’t have that problem with a Cardassian child. At least, not officially,” he made sure to clarify.

“And inofficially?” Keiko gave him a tired look, “What do I say, when my child looks at me and ask me where daddy is? When he’s coming back? When she throws a tantrum because she wanted daddy to read her the bedtime story?” Garak swallowed and nodded, “He didn’t _just_ die in the line of duty – anyone who is married to Starfleet are well aware this might happen, but it’s not _just_ that, is it? A part of me doesn’t want her to know,” she shook her head, “if she doesn’t know, she’ll still have a chance of growing up with just the vague knowledge that her father died in service. But, she’ll find out, won’t she? And when she does... she will feel what I feel now. And she’ll wonder why I never told her.”

“She’ll forgive you,” Garak ensured her quickly, “she knows you love her, you’re a good mother. Maybe she’ll be angry at first, but I’m sure that given time, she’ll forgive you,” he thought of Tain, and got momentarily dizzy, “she’ll understand you did it to protect her, to keep her safe. And that’s all that matters. Sometimes it takes long for a child to come around, but I... am positive that she’ll return to you, if she’d hold it against you at all,” he smiled at the sting in his own chest. Keiko took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Even if I were to wait with telling her until she’s older, until I do, everyone else will be acting strange around her... I don’t want her to be at everyone’s pity. It must feel _really strange_ to have everyone’s attitude towards you change just like that, without really knowing why – who knows what kind of marks that would leave on her?” Garak didn’t know, and opted to say nothing, so Keiko continued, “And I don’t want her to grow up to hate Cardassians, either. I saw what that did to Miles, and you know, he was always the one to pay the highest price. It does something to a person, to have to cling to such feelings of hate, a feeling so dark that – even with Rugal, an innocent child,” she waved her hand a little, “he only came around to liking the boy once he learned that Rugal hated himself. _No one_ should have to hate themselves for who they are, to get approval. I couldn’t tell him that, though, I couldn’t say it, because - the war was hard on him, and on the moment, I was happy to have a functioning situation at all - but I don’t understand, I truly don’t understand, why they decided to place Rugal with me and Miles,” it was clear that she’d bottled those emotions up, and then she rolled her eyes, “Not that it matters now! I don’t know why I’m upset about it _now!_ Miles is dead!” she looked up at the ceiling and blinked away some more tears, “There’s so much I have to do – administrative stuff, Molly’s needs, my job, my plants, _myself_ – it’s just so much. I feel like there’s nothing left of me, I’m running out of wits, and there’s that anger, that hatred, that gnawing feeling in the back of my head, stealing my energy, and I’m so very tired, so tired that I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep,” she looked at Garak meaningfully, “do you know what that is like?”

“You feel like it’s too much, and that you’re not getting enough sympathy,” the Cardassian answered with a tilted head, “you’re frustrated that everyone else around you go on like nothing happened, but your world is on fire, and the only one who can turn out the flames, is you.” She smiled at that.

“My heart is raw and my lungs ache,” she got up and went to put the glass back in the replicator, “I spoke to Nerys earlier today. She says I’m a strong woman, that I can do this,” Keiko’s back was slumped, and Garak let her continue, “I didn’t want to burst her bubble, I know she was just trying to cheer me up, and that from her perspective, maybe that’s how it is. But all I know, is that, I don’t have a choice. I’m not a strong woman, I’m just a mother who is trying her best to survive. I don’t have any other option, and that’s not being strong,” she ordered another glass and leaned her forehead against the wall.

“By all means,” Garak heard himself say, “be as weak as you need, I won’t judge you. From the looks of things, you really do deserve a break – have you asked the Doctor for any help?”

“I’ve asked him to take care of Molly for me,” Keiko answered with a sigh, “he’s offered some sort of therapy, but I refused - I mean, what is there to say? I know, it’s prideful perhaps, but I don’t want to rush through this grieving period, Miles deserve better.” Garak hummed, then changed his mind, and hummed in a slightly lower tone.

“Now, why would you assume that he’d want you to suffer sleepless nights and exhaustion?” he asked, genuinely concerned, “Your love and loyalty to him wouldn’t be any lesser, just because you'd discuss your feelings in an organized manner.” There was a moment’s silence, then Keiko exhaled and turned around, glass in hand.

“Who will take care of everything if I can’t?” she asked him, “I don’t know how to let go of control – that was always very practical with Miles, he never really contradicted me on my decisions. And now? God, I wish there was someone here to take over.” Garak burst into a genuine smile.

“But there is, my dear,” he told her with a bit of amusement, “you’ve got friends here, on this station. And Bashir, he considered Miles his closest friend – he would certainly do his all for you. Let him give you that treatment, let him take care of Molly – and if ever he feel like he can’t, I’ll... I’ll be there too,” he found himself slipping the words more easily and willingly than he’d ever imagined, “I can take care of your plants for you, if you’re afraid you’ll forget them. I have plenty of room in here...” Keiko, who had started crying despite her brave attempts not to, chuckled through the tears.

“You still have to get rid of that flytrap,” she nagged him, and he could tell that those words meant more than just a nag, “you might end up in the brig, if someone were to report you,” then, her laughter grew into a sigh and she rubbed her forehead, “Oh, what am I supposed to do?”

“Fall,” said Garak, which caused her to look at him with something almost fearful in her eyes, “fall, and let your friends catch you,” he followed up, clasping his hands in his lap, “we barely know each other, and I’ve already caught you this once – imagine what your friends, who know you and love you dearly, would do for you.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a sequel, if people express interest in reading one.
> 
> I wanted to write this to see if there was a dynamic/realistic way in which I could set it up so that Elim and Keiko might end up getting close, and it's been a really interesting experience for me.
> 
> Thank you for reading this far, and please do tell what you thought of it ^u^


End file.
